


Genesis

by Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays



Category: Warframe
Genre: Gen, Origins, mild horror elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays/pseuds/Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a huatou that goes, "What was my original face before birth-and-death?" The answer is not important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> Probably not lore-compliant, as I have not yet played a lot of this game.

The head of the thing on the table is smooth and white, without any suggestion of features. The shape calls to mind the blunt sleekness of an ocean predator. The only interruption is a seam, approximately where the jaw would lie on a human skull. Nineve knows it is cosmetic only, a head made to resemble a helmet. Psych Ops had insisted on that.

The rest of the body follows suit, reinforced bone and hide grown around composite supports and sensor nodes to suggest the lines of armor. Its chest rises and falls in the perfect rhythm of an automatic nervous system without a consciousness to inject the hitches and sighs of natural sleep.

The hologram above the terminal hums and flares blue. “All systems online, vitals within point five percent of nominal. We may proceed on your signal, Researcher.”

“Thank you, Emris. We will begin momentarily.”

Nineve breathes deep, steadying herself, before turning to the presence on the other side of the room. It is uncomfortable to look at him directly, but she has mastered the trick of catching the flickering edges and shadows in her peripheral vision. A chill still runs down her spine, but it is an automatic response, and she is mostly used to it.

They had misunderstood the Void so very badly. They had known it was empty; they had not expected it to be hungry.

Talter is one of the worst off of the survivors. There is enough of him left tied to the here and now to understand that he was once more. He is aware that he has been mutilated.

“Talter.” She waits a moment, and tries again. Sometimes, he does not respond to his name. _“Talter.”_

_“No, Researcher, I am ready.”_

“I had not yet asked.”

A beat passes before he replies. _“I apologize.”_

She lets that flicker of prescience go by without comment. Command is already aware of that aspect of his condition. “If you have no preparations to make, then we will begin immediately.”

Talter does not respond, and there is a fleeting pang in her chest. She has seen his psych profile, and can guess that before he might have joked, or wished them both luck. This, too, she lets pass without comment.

“Emris, please initiate pilot arm sequence.”

“Initiating. Please stand by.”

The cradle holding the head of the body hums briefly and there is a soft click as the capsule of Void-matter slides home into its slot in the cervical vertebrae, a channel for the parts of Talter that live in the Void now. The body keeps breathing, its vitals undisturbed by the intrusion.

“Arm sequence complete. Pilot may engage at will.”

Nineve lets out a breath. “Talter. You may proceed when you are ready. There should be a path.” ‘Path’ is the wrong word for it, but it should shine like a beacon in the Void.

_“I see it.”_ He speaks from just over her shoulder and she startles. By the time she turns he is gone.

A long minute passes while she waits and watches the body, chest tight and mind hot and blank. It is a long enough wait that she begins to think they have failed, that the rest of Talter has disintegrated in the Void.

But finally, there is a loud rasp as the body inhales violently.

“Heartrate elevated, nervous system activity consistent with consciousness. Void harmonics within expected parameters,” Emris intones. “Welcome back.”

Despite the welcome, the cephalon does not release the restraints on the body. Nineve makes her way to its side. That blind, predator’s head follows her progress and the hairs at the back of her neck prickle.

_A helmet. Think of it as only a helmet._

“Are you there, Talter?”

Another harsh inhalation. The abruptness of the motion is unnerving after so many months of watching the body - _the frame_ \- lie still and quiet.

“Yes. I am here.”

They had gone to some trouble to model the frame’s voice on Talter’s previous voiceprint. The words sound startlingly young, hoarse and shocked.

“How do you feel?”

“Unsettled,” it - _he_ \- says slowly. “I had forgotten. But it is good to be present again.”

She watches him carefully. He is still breathing heavily, but it is the deep, slow breaths of someone savoring the air, and his hands are loose, turned down at his sides to feel the cool ceramic of the table.

“Emris, unlock restraints.”

“Yes, Researcher.”

The cuffs release and slowly, he sits and turns, legs dangling off the table’s edge. He completes the motion carefully, but without apparent trouble. When he is done, he puts one hand to his chest and watches it rise and fall with his breaths. The other hand grips the edge of the table, mapping out the smooth curve and the lip on the underside over and over. If he is at all disturbed by the body he inhabits, it does not show.

“Stand please, and walk to the diagnostic terminal.”

He passes the initial integration checks with ease, and responds readily and clearly to questions. Emris reports clear electrical signaling and good Void phase-shifting with controllable bleed-through. Watching him, she is struck, over and over, by the way his hands seek out the nearest surface and linger over its shape and texture.

_A physical anchor_ , she thinks. Command already has intentions regarding Talter’s link to the Void. But, watching the hungry grip of his fingers on the table, she has the strong intuition that he may serve them better in a more direct role.

She did not know Talter before his contact with the Void and cannot compare it to what she sees now, but the frame has focused him. He is more aware, more centered than she has seen him before. More definite. She does not doubt he would resist a return to his earlier state.

They can use that.

It is a cruel thought, but the war has made compassion costly.

She shakes herself back to the present. “Thank you, Talter. If you would like to rest before we begin the next tests, there is a cot through the door to your left.”

He looks up at that. It is hard to tell, but she thinks he may be surprised. “I… yes. I would like to sleep again.” He gets up, looming over her, and for a moment the body is again alien and predatory, ghost-white in the shadow of the doorway. Before he opens the door, he hesitates. “Researcher. Thank you. I cannot say how grateful I am.”

The door opens and he steps through, and Nineve is left with a bitter taste at the back of her throat, but her thoughts sharp.

Yes. She will make her recommendations to Command. The evident hunger for physical sensation is something they can use. Talter was not a fighter, but there is little enough left of his former identity; it will not be hard to supplant it. He himself might welcome the stability. And while those like Talter are few, they can always make more.


End file.
